Shades of Gray
by KatyKalamity
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a spy for the Order. And a spy for the Dark Lord. He doesn't know if he's good or bad or not. He sees the world in a shade of gray, and Hermione Granger just might be able to help him make the right choice. R&R!
1. Sure of Soul and Sure of Heart

A/N: Yes, I know I have another fanfic to be writing right now. But I must confess, getting Draco and Hermione to fall in love is such a challenge that I could write it in so many different ways. So I shall. I will still update my other fic, but I want to write this one too. If anyone disputes that, they can leave a review and tell me why. I'll ignore you, but I'll have another review!

Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish.

Chapter One: Sure of Soul and Sure of Heart.

The darkness never seemed so heavy. Mists from the dementors swirled around the grounds anything three dimensional like it wanted to swallow it. It enveloped Draco Malfoy like an extra cloak as he trudged up the walk to his family's extravagant Manor. The moon drifted in and out of focus as the mists curled around the white turrets of the mansion. Malfoy kicked a stone as he walked. Only one more week until he was able to Apparate by himself, and then he could go wherever he pleased. He could even start to accomplish something for the Dark Lord. Wait…He didn't think that.

"Father," he called out into the effervescent darkness. "Stop that." His father, not alone in the Manor, sent his son a mental image of a long, elliptical table, completely full except for one seat. Draco's seat was the only one that stood empty. He was almost late. As much as Draco would have liked to slow his pace just to annoy everyone in the dining room, his father sent him a warning thought. _Tick tock, Draco._ He picked up his pace and was in the foyer in a minute.

"Good evening my Lord," Draco said, with a slight bow. "Father." He nodded to each of the masked Death Eaters as he wound his way to his seat, to the right of his father. Everyone watched him as he walked, meticulously picking apart everything from his swagger to the way his cloak billowed about his muscled legs. When he scooted his chair into place, however, everyone's eyes shifted from Draco to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was twirling his wand between his long, spindly fingers as he gazed at Draco curiously. Draco stared back for a few moments, then refocused his gaze to his father's chiseled profile, unable to bear the scarlet eyes a moment longer. Voldemort let out a low chuckle, and everyone fidgeted in their seats uncomfortably.

"So, Draco," he said softly, his intense gaze now fixed on the wand. "What can you tell me of the boy?" The Death Eaters around the table hissed at the mere mention of Harry Potter, but Voldemort held up a hand to silence them. They watched Draco intently.

"The half-wit headmaster has convinced them to return to school for their final year," Draco said, leaning back a little. "So Potter and Weasel and the Mudblood can't exactly focus on the war while they're studying for a Potion's exam," he stifled a small chuckle. "And Dumbledore told McGonagall that under any circumstance, if he were to fail, she would become Headmistress of Hogwarts, and Moody would become the leader of the Order of the Phoenix."

Voldemort stopped twirling his wand. "Interesting…" he said slowly, drawing out the word as long as possible, hissing a little at Nagini, who was wrapping herself around his shoulders. Draco shuddered a little and looked away from the snake. "It seems our esteemed Hogwarts Headmaster has made plans for his death…" He drew out his words like he was in deep thought, and Lucius caught Draco's eye and shrugged.

"I wonder how much time he has left." Voldemort said quietly. The cavernous room fell in silence, and even Snape, who was one Voldermort's direct right, had to lean in to hear the Dark Lord's words.

"My Lord?" he asked.

"How much time, Severus. How much time does he have left?" Voldemort said louder. "Dumbledore is obviously dying, I just want to know how much time he has left." He raised his thin finger to his cheek and stroked it absentmindedly while he thought. "And he said nothing of this to you, boy?" he directed at Draco.

"No my Lord," Draco said quickly. "I heard it all through an Extendable Ear, from the first floor landing."

"A what?" his father hissed at him.

"An Extendable Ear," Voldemort said dismissively. "A contraption invented by the Weasley boys, it's extremely effective. Very well, boy, you'll go back to your post tomorrow."

"My Lord," Draco said tentatively. "I go back to Hogwarts tomorrow."

Voldemort looked thoughtful. "Then I guess you'll just have to continue your mission at school, huh boy?" he said, looking at Draco again. Draco nodded, and his father gave an appreciatory nod. "I'll expect owls any instance you find anything out about the Order of Dumbledore, understand?" Draco nodded fervently. "Anything and everything," he repeated. "Nothing is inconsequential."

He stood up, and all the Death Eaters took it as their cue to leave. Even Voldemort himself swept out of the room in a swish of his cloak. Lucius and his son remained in their seats.

"You did well, son," Lucius said, clapping Draco on the shoulder. "You're well on your way to reinstating the power that is associated with the Malfoy name." Draco said nothing, but merely nodded stiffly. His father stared at him for a second, then took his leave as well.

Draco sat in the darkness and the silence for a long while after everyone else left. He thought about the things he had seen in battle with the Dark Lord, and things he had heard about he people he had killed in the Order of the Phoenix. How they had families, and loved ones, and they were just like them. But they were dead now. Just because some guy was on a power trip and wanted to take over the world. He thought of Dumbledore, who trusted him so completely, who had inducted him into the Order of the Phoenix earlier that day. He thought of his left forearm, which was still bare. Draco Malfoy wasn't sure if he could handle being on two sides of such a black and white issue. But when it came down to it, Draco Malfoy wanted to be gray.

He didn't want to be a part of this war anymore. He didn't want to spy on people, and he most certainly didn't want to kill. But if he betrayed the Order, he would die. If he betrayed the Dark Lord, he would die. There was nothing from stopping someone from either side finally getting fed up with him and just killing him on the street. Draco Malfoy was always knew he was a bad boy. His father was the Dark Lord's right hand man, after all. He was the epitome of bad.

But now…he wasn't so sure.

A/N: So tell me what you think. I know this was kind of a weird beginning, but it'll get better.


	2. The Order of the Poultry

A/N: Wow, thanks for the one review I got. Seriously, I feel so loved now. Geez.

Disclaimer: Not mine. You know this already…

Chapter Two: The Order of the Poultry.

Draco had forgotten how much Hogwarts reminded him of his own Manor. Not in the sense that his own house had moving staircases and a screaming poltergeist, but that when the weather was cold outside, the inside of the building seemed to reflect it. The rain that ran down the windows in small rivers made the castle seem cold. The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall was completely black, and the House tables seemed cloaked in darkness despite the candles lit throughout. Blaise Zambini took a seat next to him and Draco nodded in recognition. He had managed to spend the entire ride from King's Cross Station to Hogsmeade in an empty compartment, growling at the first years that tried to claim it.

He didn't want to talk to anyone who might be associated to a Death Eater, or anyone that was a future member of the Order of the Phoenix. He just wanted to stay away from everyone, just so he wouldn't feel like such a Benedict Arnold all the time. Pansy Parkinson took the other vacant seat to his left and Draco grimaced a little. He had broken off his longtime relationship with Pansy over the summer, and the girl acted like it was just a horrible dream that never happened.

She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, which he neither acknowledged nor returned. He stared at the small group of first years intently, hoping to avoid any sort of communication with anyone who could speak English. But alas…

"So I hear the Dark Lord has a very special mission for you, Drake," Pansy purred, leaning heavily onto Draco's arm. Draco looked at her curiously, like he had never seen her before. She stared at him like this was some huge honor and not some horrible chore that was bestowed upon him, not given like it was a privilege. He was sure Pansy would have loved to have gotten an assignment like that, but considering she wasn't a Death Eater and rather dim, he knew that was merely a pipe dream for her.

"Really Parkinson? And who, pray tell, did you hear that from?" Draco drawled in his normally condescending way when he was talking to someone he would have rather not have. Pansy narrowed her eyes a little at the sound of her last name, but said nothing aloud.

"From my father, of course," she said haughtily, raising her upturned nose into the air. Draco just shook his head and stared again at a first year, a slight little blonde boy who reminded Draco of himself in his first year. He looked like he was born to control the place, and he knew it. Draco smiled faintly at the boy. He absolutely had to be in Slytherin.

"Nott, Alexander," Professor McGonagall called out, and all the Slytherins looked at each other. Had anyone else known that Theodore Nott had a brother? The looks were confused all around. The little blonde boy Draco had noticed stood up and swaggered to the stool as nonchalantly as Draco had when he had known he was a Slytherin. Now, Draco admired his self-assuredness. He didn't have that anymore.

The Sorting Hat didn't even need to touch his head. "Slytherin!" the hat called out. The people around Draco erupted in cheers, and Draco himself clapped softly. The boy took a seat next to his brother, who smirked.

The Sorting went by fast after that, and Draco merely stared into space, rebuffing all of Pansy attempts to get him to talk to her, and just sat there when she leaned heavily on his arm after the dessert was cleared away. The talking surrounded him much like the mists on the walk to his house. Dumbledore stood up from his chair, and the chattering fell to nothing.

"Welcome, esteemed students, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This year will be just as fine as the last, I'm sure. Please take into consideration our prefects," He raised his wizened arm, "Ronald Weasley for Gryffindor," the house erupted in applause, and the Slytherins hissed. "Ernie Macmillan for Hufflepuff," everyone but the Slytherins clapped politely. "Terry Boot for Ravenclaw," more applause, "And Blaise Zambini for Slytherin." The Slytherin's cheered and the Gryffindors booed.

Dumbledore waited patiently for the noise to die down. "Now for Head Boy and Girl."

The Hall was dead silent. It was well known that no one had gotten a Head Boy or Girl badge this year in their envelopes, and it appeared the Headmaster was waiting to tell them the news in person.

"We have an interesting pair of students as our Heads this year," he began slowly. "From two different Houses that have harbored animosity for a number of years. I'm hoping this appointment will end the hard feelings." He raised his arm toward the Gryffindor table. "Hermione Granger is your Head Girl," and the crowd went absolutely crazy. A third of the Golden Trio as Head Girl, and another third prefect? All they needed to do now was appoint Potter as King of the World and everything would be normal. Draco shook his head.

"And Head Boy is Draco Malfoy."

The high pitched screams were so loud Draco had to cover his ears for a second. Gryffindor might have been booing, but every single girl in all the Houses was screaming her head off. Draco stood and waved, his trademark smirk painted on his face. Pansy cheered wildly next to him, and he avoided looking at her. The Golden Trio remained seated, but clapped politely all the same. They weren't friends, far from it, but they were on the same side now. Or so they thought.

He nodded at them once and sat down. It was a few minutes before Dumbledore could quiet the girls. He held up his arms and stared intently down at them all until the Hall was wrapped in quiet again.

"Mr. Filch would like for me to remind everyone that the Forbidden Forest is off limits and anything from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes if off limits as well. For a full list, see Mr. Filch's door." He pause for a moment, looking down at everyone from his crooked nose. "First years, please follow the prefects to your respective House common rooms, and Head Boy and Girl, please see Professor McGonagall. She will take you to your Tower. Have a good night, and we'll see you bright and early tomorrow for the first day of term!"

Draco stood up and watched as Blaise ushered the first years to the door, pushing through Hufflepuffs along the way, and he smiled. Blaise was really just a more tan version of him, without the second thoughts. He turned his back on his House table and walked up to Professor McGonagall, who was already standing next to Hermione Granger.

Draco found it incredibly annoying that Hermione looked like a teenager, but acted like a professor. He thought, only in the deep confines of his mind, that she would be attractive if she had a different wardrobe and didn't follow Potty and Weasel and, come to think of it, didn't argue so much.

Granger was a weirdo. He didn't say a word as he joined the group, but let Granger and McGonagall lead the way. He trailed, dragging his feet, and let his mind wander. Why was he letting this get to him? Sure, he was going to have to eventually make a decision on who he was going to betray. He guessed a lot was riding on him. He leaned, naturally, toward the Dark Side. After all, that's where his family was. All of his friends, if he could call them that, were there. And if he betrayed them, no one would be able to protect him or his family. He would be dead, and his family would soon join him.

But if he betrayed the Order, there was no way he was ever going to forget the fear he felt all the time, even in his own house. If he didn't help the good guys, he was destined to die anyway. The cold hard truth of the matter was, if he betrayed the Dark Lord, he was dead. If he betrayed the Order, he would probably be killed in battle anyway. The good guys always won, after all. That's what happened in all the fairy tales. The question was, did he believe in fairy tales anymore?

That question would answer all of the other questions.

Hermione nudged him painfully in the ribs, and he tuned back in to his surroundings. He looked from McGonagall, who was looking around the room, to Hermione, who was looking at him.

"The password is Cockroach Clusters," McGonagall said with her back to the pair. Draco raised an eyebrow, and Hermione snickered.

"The Headmaster picked it." McGonagall said, a smile tugging at her thin lips. "Mr. Malfoy, your room is up there to the left," she pointed to the staircase, "And Miss Granger, yours to the right." She swept to the other side of the room. "There is one bathroom," she said, and it connects your two rooms." Hermione blushed, Draco shrugged. "There's a kitchen in here, just in case you want to hold meetings for the prefects in here and such." Draco looked up.

"We can cook our own food?" he asked.

"Precisely, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said curtly. "But you can summon a house-elf here to help you if you wish." Hermione squeaked in protest, but everyone in the room ignored her.

"On that note, I take my leave," McGonagall said. "Don't give out your password," she warned on her way out the portrait hole. "But you can invite a few of your friends in here to study," she said, raising an eyebrow, as though daring them to do anything against school rules with all their freedom. After a final look, she left the room, the portrait hole closing quietly behind her.

Hermione glanced at Malfoy for a second, and then ran up the stairs to look at her new room. It was decorated, as usual, in scarlet and gold, and her things were already unpacked in it. The bed was a typical four poster, but it looked more like a canopy bed than anything else. There was a vanity in the corner with little twinkling fairy lights around the edge of the mirror, and an armoire next to it. She sighed and wished there was a bookcase. As though reading her mind, a bookcase sprung into being right next to her bed, with all of her books stocked in it, alphabetized. She smiled.

Draco had done exactly the same thing Hermione did as soon as she left. His room was draped in silver and green but, after a thought, the sheets on the bed turned to black instead. His dresser was immense, and he already had a bookshelf stuffed with books. He also had a small fireplace in the corner after he thought about how chilly it was in the room.

He sat on his bed for a second, then approached Hermione's door cautiously. He knocked, and when no one answered, opened the door anyway.

She was standing right on the other side of the door, hand outstretched to open it. She squeaked a little, clearly caught off guard by his height and close proximity. He stepped back immediately and she cleared her throat. Her room was typically Gryffindor, but he didn't linger.

"I need to talk to you," he said shortly. She just stared. He turned and walked down the staircase, satisfied that he could hear her following him. He sat on the loveseat, and she chose to perch herself on the edge of the armchair and wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing them close to herself. She marveled that he never showed that he was cold, even if he must be. His normally pale face looked a little pink around the tips of his ears, and his cheeks were a little flushed from the chill.

"It's a little cold in here, isn't it?" she asked. Immediately, a fire place appeared in the corner with a fire roaring in it. She smiled a little, and settled into the armchair. "So, what do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"The Order?" he said simply.

She cocked her head to the side, confused. "What about the Order?"

"How can I be so sure that you people will be able to protect me?"

She sat up a little straighter. "First of all, as of yesterday, you ARE one of "us people". And we promised you safety. We don't go back on our word." She lifted her aristocratic little chin a little higher into the air.

"And what if they get to me Granger?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His voice made Hermione shiver a little. She stared intently at Draco. What was he insinuating? Did someone suspect him? Was he already turned? She stared into the grey depths of his eyes, willing them to give her a clue as to what he meant. But all they did was transfix her with their intoxicating fierceness.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she asked quietly.

"They will get to me Granger!" he said, jumping up, pacing. "They will get to me and they will kill me!"

Hermione jumped up. "Not if you keep your head. If you stay calm, nothing will happen to you!" she followed the young man with her eyes as he paced furiously.

"So if I stay calm, I can keep myself from dying!?" he almost shouted. "That makes no sense!"

"Malfoy," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "Stop it, you're scaring me."

He wheeled around to face her, his pointed nose about an inch from her little freckled one. She truly looked terrified. He stepped away and went to walk up the stairs.

"Maybe it's better for you if I do," he said lowly.

Two hours later, as he lay in bed, Draco turned to face the ashes in his fireplace, and jumped.

"Father!" he said, slipping out of bed. "What are you doing?"

"Have you found anything?" his father asked quickly.

"Father, all we've done is eat and sleep," Draco said reasonably. "But I made Head Boy." He managed a smile.

"As expected," his father replied. "Contact us when you know anything, son."

"I will father," Draco said, but his father as already gone.

A/N: Long time since I updated last, but since I only had one review, I didn't feel the need. So now, I need some reviews!


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